I'm a Survivor
by embracethis
Summary: Robert Hawkins, having been retrieved with Elizabeth McIntyre from the rubble in Central Park, offers an explanation of what happened and how he's dealing with it now.


I'm not exactly the guy who always gets the girl. In fact, I think I got the girl once in my entire life, but that was back in middle school. But back then, _any_ guy could get a girl. Her name was Cassie Sparling and, although she had blonde hair and blue eyes, she wasn't exactly what you'd call a bombshell. Despite the features that should have been viewed as "beautiful," she had gigantic rimmed glasses and braces that seemed to take up her entire face. Granted, ages 11-14 are the best years to have braces, but it's such a rough developmental stage anyway that I don't know why parents are so sadistic.

That goes beyond my point. I've had girlfriends since Cassie Sparling, but none of whom have particularly made a lasting impression on me. I had a date to the prom both as a Junior and as a Senior and I lost my virginity at the former, in the girl's bathroom of Washburn Sr. High School. I thought I was a god, even though the entire experience probably only lasted a grand total of five minutes. I, at least, maintained the courtesy to make sure that my partner (Elyse Sampson) "got off" as well. It took me a few more years to grasp the concept of a "faked orgasm."

I started my four year stint at NYU in 1998. I was anxious to get away from the drab life of Minnesota, and really, it was only right. My brother Jason had been talking for years about moving to New York City, and my parents had vocalized their aversion to the idea almost nightly. I decided that I wanted them to talk just as bad about me, so I was bound and determined to lose myself in those hallowed halls. Streets.

I met Beth McIntyre during the second semester of my freshman year. We had Literature together with a teacher who looked younger than we were and Beth and I bonded over mockery. She was always far smarter than I was though, in reality, I'm not so sure why I was surprised. Jason had moved to the city by this point, which actually made my parents feel much better (and made me feel quite smug having beat him there), and began dating the hottest Canadian chick I've ever seen. Plus, she spoke French which would have made me a little happy in the crotch region were it not for the fact that I knew Jason had already schtupped her. Except that I'd found her first.

Lily and I had Chem together and I finally got the nerve to ask her out. The date was an absolute disaster. I started to pay for a dinner that was only questionably edible when she made it clear that she was paying for her own. Well, okay, sure that's fine. But to top it all off, when I walked her back to her dorm, she shook my hand. Shook my hand! This was a girl I'd been friends with since the beginning of the semester and she shook my damn hand. Adding insult to injury, soon, she asked if I could introduce her to my brother. Begrudgingly, I agree.

The good news was, with Jason constantly going out with Lily, and Beth and Lily hitting it off like they'd known each other for years, I was able to arrange double "dates" between the four of us. Jason knew from the start how I felt about Beth, being that we were "more than friends." I think that's an unfair explanation of how I felt about Beth, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. I'm not sure Beth and I even _need_ description, but it's not out of the question. We've never just been "friends." We transcend that, like Ghandi. We've never said, "Wow, you're such a good friend" and yet the assumption is always there.

Beth is an enigma. It's impossible to be around her and be in a sour mood. Believe me; I've tried. It's unlikely that there's actually anyone in the entire world - universe for that matter - like her. I think I loved her from the second I first met her. She had boyfriends. I had girlfriends. But somehow, at the end of the day, it was just her and me in her dorm room at four in the morning, laughing our asses off (because everything is funnier at four in the morning) and munching on Doritos that we'd just walked eight blocks to buy (because every other grocery store had closed around one.).

She was my constant and, in many ways, she still is. Looking back on everything that's happened in the past year, I really have to wonder exactly where I'd be had Beth not been there. I wouldn't be alive, for one. She's been the main aid in my recovery - and I in hers. She helped me through a month of hospital food that looked worse than the crap I ate with Lily, as well as months of physical therapy to gain the use of my leg back. I've helped her through physical therapy after consecutive surgeries to repair the muscle and bone damage in her shoulder. It's actually something of a miracle we both lived.

I don't actually remember much about what happened that night. It all went down so fast. Though, in actuality, I'm not entirely sure I'd want to. What I do remember is the terror I felt when I heard how close the bombs were to the little place Beth and I were staying, to wait out the hammer down. It wasn't terror at the thought of dying. It was terror at the thought of dying without Beth knowing I loved her. As the explosions hit the bridge above us, I made sure that I dragged Beth underneath me. The damage to her was sort of impeded by my body, and after I 

heard her say "I love you," I blacked out. Not such a shabby note on which to lose consciousness.

My psychiatrist diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and shoved about 500 mgs of pills down my throat per day. I've got anti-anxiety pills, anti-depressants, plus God knows what else. I've got Vicodin for pain management (though, fortunately, I've been using it less and less) and every so often I go in for calcium intravenous infusions. Life's a little more difficult now. I lost my brother, I lost my friends, I lost my job and I lost my home. But I've also gained a lot.

The fit is finally hitting the shan, so to speak. On the news the other night (I'm sure everyone saw the coverage) it finally came out that Slusho was the company responsible for waking the creature. It had been dormant for years. The story also said that the thing was just a baby, and it was scared. For a few split seconds, I kind of felt sorry for it. Then I remembered its mass destruction and I stopped pitying it.

The point is that the little bit of information we've received is really messing with my head. Like, somehow I feel like it's my fault for this entire thing going down. Plainly, it's not. I wasn't the one who ordered that the drilling for minerals in the middle of the ocean. I wasn't the one who thunk up the game plan for the hammer down protocol. But I was connected to it, much more than some people. I'm just glad as hell that I hadn't gone to Japan before then, otherwise I think I would have shit myself waiting for news from everyone.

I've moved back Midwest a bit, along with Lily and Beth. We're living in Chicago now and doing relatively well. Lily stays with me sometimes, when she can't stand being alone. Beth and I -- finally -- are actually acting like we care about each other. The place I own is actually ours and we take the opportunity of living together to still sometimes stay up until four in the morning. "In love" doesn't quite describe our relationship. She's far too good for me, but nevertheless I consider myself fortunate to have someone who'd lower her standards to pull me into her life.

So I guess that's all. That's the long and short of it (but mostly long). I'm not sure I'd consider my life interesting, save for the fact that I was in the city when it came tumbling down. Other than that, I'm just a guy who has some serious, serious issues. However, finally, I also have the girl.


End file.
